


The Spite Hour

by Officer_Jennie



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [39]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Age Difference, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Multi, various pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-02-29 05:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18772129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Officer_Jennie/pseuds/Officer_Jennie
Summary: A drabble collection, each chapter written in spite of something that irked me. Pairings vary per chapter - each chapter's notes give a brief summary of the setting and pairing(s) involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble snippets that are written out of spite - some chapters have interconnected snippets, some don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A series of drabbles based off of Madara being nice to children. Set in Naruto's time - pairing is MadaTobi

It was still a bit cool for his liking to be eating outdoors, though Madara was willing to do so anyway just to see the content look on his partner’s face. At least inarizushi could be eaten well enough cold, and the warm tea they both sipped on helped fight against the early spring breeze.

The street near them bustled with people, faces he had no names to, and Madara did his best to memorize and place them in the clan’s he knew. Since the academy had let out for the day, children weaved in and out of their parents’ legs, strangers having to side-step out of their way to keep from being knocked over by the midday energy buzz.

One child wasn’t so lucky as to avoid running into anyone. He seemed too small to be an academy child just yet, his pace lacking the hurried edge of those rushing to get back home and play. In his hand he clutched a single stick of dango, gaze focused up on the sky instead of in front of him, and his dessert was lost to the dusty path below when he walked straight into a civilian man.

The boy wasn’t scolded, simply patted on his head and given a sympathetic smile before the civilian continued on down the street. His pout still suggested a loss of great proportions.

Madara grabbed a napkin and one of his own desserts as he stood up, carefully weaving over to the child and squatting down next to him.

“Be more careful next time.”

Nodding frantically while Madara ruffled his hair, the boy accepted his gift with a bow before continuing on, every once in a while peeking back over as Madara made his way back to the table.

“You won’t even share those with me.”

Madara scowled at Tobirama’s teasing tone, promptly picking one inarizushi up and shoving it in the bastard’s mouth - and snickering at the confused coughing it earned him.

* * *

He knew  _why_  the villagers avoided the child, though he’d already made his stance on the matter very well known - as had Tobirama, who had gone off on all of his former students ( _especially_  Hiruzen) and secured the Uzumaki boy a decent home  _not_  on his own in a small apartment.

Fear was a nasty thing. It infected all it touched, something Madara knew all too well having grown in an age where fear touched all.

Still, this was a child the civilians shooed away from their shops. A  _child_  so many overlooked and called a monster. And Madara had not spent the better part of his first life building an alliance and  _this very village_  just to let  _a child_  be treated in such a manner.

Treating the brat to lunch every few days  ~~and dealing with his idiocy~~ was a small price to pay to do his part. Seeing this small boy smile and laugh now made it worthwhile, so different from the child he’d seen at first: alone, neglected, wanting desperately to trust someone but afraid to do so.

“Hey, Ojii-san, I don’t look stupid do I?”

“Eh?” Madara made sure to pinch the brat’s cheek for calling him an old man (he might have been around over a hundred years ago, but he’d not come back from the grave just to be blatantly disrespected over his bowl of udon). “What are you on about?”

“A kid at school said I looked stupid.” Naruto rubbed at his now sore cheek, his voice far too loud for the quiet restaurant they were in. Not that anyone would dare to tell him to leave, not with Madara eating at his table. “Said my clothes were stupid. Too orange.”

Madara snorted at the silliness of the topic, chin in palm as he turned to stare out the window. Knowing the minds of children though, it was possible Naruto was honestly bothered by what the other kid had said, so he made sure to add, “Nothing wrong with orange. It’s my favorite color.”

“Right? It’s the best, you know!”

“Yes, yes. Now eat your vegetables, brat.” Madara pointed at them firmly with his chopsticks, ignoring the immediate whine his demand received. One way or another, he’d get the Uzumaki child on a proper diet eventually.

* * *

One look at that little shit, and Madara  _knew_  he was trouble.

In death, at least, he’d escaped the terror that had wrangled his little brother into a relationship. Faced now with the carbon copy of said terror, Madara didn’t know whether to admit defeat and leave or aid the child as he’d been asked to.

The image of Tobirama floated into his head, stern and ready to lecture him  ~~and deny certain activities from not helping his student’s descendant~~. It was enough to heave a sigh and drop out of his spot in the trees, ready to face the headache waiting for him.

Peace had been good in a lot of ways for the Uchiha, one of which being a downward trend in the activation of the mangekyo sharingan. Of course, that meant that those who  _did_  activate it were left with few teachers, and Shisui was one of the unlucky ones who had done so early on in life.

“Madara-sama.” The bow gave him pause. It wasn’t all that surprising that the boy would know him, but the behavior spoke against the overlayed image of a young Kagami he’d had in his mind. He shook his head as Shisui straightened back out, giving the boy a once over.

“You know what we’re here for, now- why are you covered in dirt?”

He was. From head to toe, clothes and skin and all. As if he’d been rolling around in it all morning.

Shisui gave a smile that brought Madara horrid flashbacks of little, conniving devils, and it took considerable effort not to wack his head like he’d done to the boy’s grandfather all those decades ago.

“I didn’t have anything clean to wear after training, so I just came like this.”

“Nothing clean to wear.” One eyebrow raised, Madara studied him. “Have your parents not done your laundry lately?”

“Oh I don’t have parents.”

The other eyebrow quickly raised alongside the other, Madara’s arms crossing while he frowned down at the smiling boy.

He might not have had much free time to spend on the Uchiha children in his own time, but he knew enough about loss to know that smile was a lie.

“You’re coming with me.” Ignoring the confused blinking, Madara put a hand on Shisui’s shoulder and immediately started to guide him away from the training grounds. He didn’t stop until they’d reached his own home, shoving the boy inside ahead of him.

Tobirama’s own awed shock at seeing someone so similar to Kagami in his own home was quickly replaced with his usual determination. Shisui was sat immediately down at their table, Madara setting to work fixing a meal for the boy (because apparently no one had thought to  _feed him_ ) while Tobirama chatted away with him, a crazed glint in his eye that told his partner all too well where his thoughts were spinning away to.

Looks like Fugaku would be getting a stern lecture in the near future, and Madara was most definitely not going to step in the mad Senju’s way. It seemed their work on fixing up the mess the village had become in their absence had just begun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drabbles based off of the idea that age differences in relationships are not inherently unhealthy. Pairings in the order that they appear: KakaSaku, KisaIta, HashiKaga

Kakashi waited until the nail polish was capped firmly before flopping down on the sofa next to his wife, pillowing his head on a firm thigh and ignoring the stinging smell. A little discomfort was worth the fine fingers working through his hair, though he did eye her with some small level of suspicion over them.

“Those can’t be dry yet.”

Unpainted nails waved in front of his face in response before they were winding through his hair once more.

“I can’t paint my  _finger_ nails, you know that.”

“Do I?” It certainly didn’t sound like something he knew. But, then again, Sakura usually knew him better than he knew himself, so he was hardly going to argue over it. Especially since nuzzling right up into her ever growing belly would be a much better use of his time.

“Yes, you  _do_ , as a matter of fact.” Kakashi batted away the offensive digit prodding at his cheek, letting his eyes slid shut while Sakura continued. “I can hardly have it chipping off in the operating room. How would you like  _your_  insides speckled all glittery and light blue?”

“Maa, isn’t that what gloves are for?” Fighting the words passed a jaw-cracking yawn, Kakashi nuzzled a bit closer. If he was lucky, he might feel some movement, though hopefully nothing to the degree of what woke Sakura up every morning. The little bugger hadn’t even taken his first breath yet and was already causing such trouble.

“Have you seen what gloves do to nail polish?” She sounded a bit over offended by the idea, but a peek up to see the spark of humor in those beautiful green eyes allayed any fears of it becoming a real argument. “It’s a disaster! They wouldn’t last through the first pair!”

“Sounds truly horrid. How tragic.”

“I’m glad you agree.” She patted his cheek once before motioning for him to get up. The complaint sitting on the tip of his tongue was bitten back when she laid down with him, pink hair splaying across his chest as Sakura curled into him, feet carefully propped up to prevent the polish from smudging. Certainly one of his favourite perks of them finally starting a family together had been the increased number of shared naps, and he was more than happy to pull her closer and enjoy the quiet and peace while they still could.

* * *

Salt hung heavy in the air. It stuck to his skin,, falling off like dry dust every night, like the sand clinging to his clothes. Waves lapped at the outcropping of rocks, its mist reaching bare skin, leaving his hair damp and stray droplets falling down his face.

All his life, Itachi had fought for peace. Admittedly, most all of his actions had only brought violence, upon others and himself. He breathed it in greedily now, letting the ocean wash into his soul and scrape against the jagged pieces of him.

Well over a decade of travelling together left Itachi clued into nearly every aspect of his partner. Even though his steps were silent, his chakra so soothing it blended into the ocean around him, he knew without looking when Kisame meandered down the beach. Walked across the rocks towards him. Sat down with nary a sound next to him, forever considerate of Itachi’s love of the quiet.

An hour passed with not a word between them. Only their legs pressed together, the water filling their senses, letting Itachi float adrift far from the life he still felt the remnants of shame for leaving behind.

“Are you happy, Itachi-san?”

He blinked out of his pseudo meditation, up at the man who towered over him even while seated. It was a question Kisame asked every now and then, though his hatred of lies had meant it was always left unanswered.

Years ago, Itachi had shared his truth, and had gotten dozens of exasperated and worry filled lectures because of it. Being dragged to the furthest corner of the continent away from Fire Country had left him irked and stressed at first, no matter the small voice (that sounded suspiciously close to a certain curly haired late cousin’s) that told him it was for his own personal good.

Now, after years and no news of a sudden and devastating collapse of the entire Fire Country just from his absence, his shoulders finally felt light. Even with dozens of eyes spinning red and still haunting his nightmares Itachi had never slept better, far from his past mistakes and curled into the strong arms of his lover.

“Yes. I’m happy.”

Most people would shrink away from Kisame’s smile, filled with too many sharp teeth. Itachi only leaned in closer, wanting nothing more than to taste it on his tongue.

* * *

Kagami dropped on the sofa the instant he got home, flopping onto the cushions with a groan that he considered no where near adequate for the day he’d had. And what a day it had been. He rolled onto his side with some effort, sending a longing look towards the blanket draped over the back of the sofa. Even that much movement sounded like far too much effort.

Heavy footsteps told him he wouldn’t be alone for long, but that was far from something Kagami minded. Soon the sofa dipped next to him, long hair tickling at his cheek as a very welcome face came into view. A very welcome and handsome face, attached to his very own personal heater, who leaned in close to give him a quick kiss.

“Any luck finding them?”

“Nooope!”

Hashirama pouted for him, running a sympathetic hand through his no doubt filthy hair. “Well. Maybe next time?”

That only made Kagami groan, turning to bury his face into the worn fabric of Hashirama’s yukata. “Don’t remind me. Don’t wanna go there again. Have you  _been_  to Suna before?”

Silence was as good an answer as any, though it was just as likely that Hashirama was having to wrack his brain. After his retirement he’d taken a few years to travel all over the continent, and Kagami already had a hard time keeping track of the few places he’d been himself.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Tell sensei to stop sending me.” 

“But you know Tobi doesn’t listen to me!” While he spoke, Hashirama rubbed at Kagami’s back, working at the stubborn knots that his muscles had wound themselves into. “I could maybe talk to Madara about it? Tobi listens to him  _sometimes_.”

“Ugh, no, don’t. Just.” Kagami groaned as the warm hand worked at a particularly tough knot, his body fighting between tensing up and melting at the sensation. That clicking couldn’t be good. “Don’t stop that.”

Despite his ever so nice request, Hashirama stopped immediately, leaving Kagami whining as his lover stood back up.

“I said  _don’t stop_ , come back!”

“But I don’t want to hurt you!” He peeked up at the words, finding Hashirama beaming down at him. “I’ll go fetch some almond oil, and I’ll work on your back then, okay?”

That was enough of a promise to have Kagami dropping his face back to the cushions (after a nice kiss), listening to his lover hum as he went off to the kitchen. One back rub would hardly fix the mess that was his back, but it was a good enough end to his horrendous day to be worth waiting for. And, if he played his cards right with a few batted eyelashes, it  _just might_  not be the actual  _end_  of their night together either.


End file.
